Illusion of Life
by rantandrumour
Summary: Nearly four years after being shot by Arthur Layton, Alex reflects on her life. What is she without Gene Hunt, and what lengths will she go to to see him again? Oneshot


**April 2012**

"Mum. _MUM!"_

"Hmm?" Alex Drake looked up at her daughter. She had grown so much in the past three years, now a girl of nearly sixteen.

"I said, do you know where my Blackberry is? I can't find it anywhere."

"Erm. No, Molls. Haven't seen it."

"Mum, you okay? You're spacey again."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I had to call you at least five times before you responded."

"Oh, I'm sorry Molly." It was true. Ever since Alex had woken up from her coma over three years ago, she had had trouble concentrating. She couldn't focus on anything for too long, and as a result had not been able to return to her job. She couldn't even become a normal psychologist, as concentrating on anything for more than five minutes was a problem. Alex had caused more than one fire while cooking because she lost her attention.

"It's okay Mum," Molly responded. "Can you ring me?"

"Sure." Alex pulled her mobile from her pocket at dialled Molly's number. A loud ring was heard from a different room. As Molly walked out, Alex's mind drifted once more.

She had found that when her mind wandered, it didn't drift everywhere. It only drifted to one time, to one place, to one person. A time when London was not all steel and grey. An office, with nylon tiles, and kept in order by a simple typewriter. A tall blonde man, with a total superiority complex, a complete dinosaur, but yet somehow completely attractive.

Alex could find herself thinking about the eighties for hours at a time, not noticing as the phone rang, as someone rapped at the door, even as food burst into flame. This had lead to her being treated even more like a child than she had been right after she had woken up. Alex hated it, she was always independent before, and now other people took care of things for her. Alex didn't even feel like a mother anymore. Molly had grown too independent; all to deal with her mum's condition. Alex knew that Molly didn't really need her, and it hurt her greatly. She had returned to this time _for _Molly, and Molly didn't need her.

Alex had not spoken to Evan in years, either. After she was released from the hospital, she had done some digging, and found out that Evan's affair with her mother had been real. Alex had confronted him about it, telling him all the hurt she couldn't show in the eighties, when she found out for the first time.

It was through Evan that she had found out that Gene Hunt was real. When the evidence came up against him, and she finally asked what had happened to her parents, Evan admitted that the affair had caused Tim Price to try and kill the entire family. He had told her that he was running down the hill to try and stop them, how there were two coppers, trying to stop him as well. He reminded her how she had leapt out of the car for the balloon, the balloon that had slipped through her fingers as she joined hands with the man that would one day become her constant.

Evan hadn't known that Gene would be her constant of course. As far as he was concerned, DI Alex Drake having the same name as his goddaughter now was just a coincidence. Alex had asked Evan what happened to her.

"I don't remember," he had responded. "I know that her DCI shot her, but I don't know how it all resolved." This was what had infuriated Alex the most. He just brushed off Gene Hunt, when he had saved her life, when she was completely lost. He was always there for her, healing the wounds that other people had created.

Layton had never been found after he had shot her. Alex did not care if he was still out there; he could come and shoot her now as far as she was concerned. She knew the only reason she had returned to 2008 was for Molly, otherwise she would have been quite content living in the eighties with Gene. She didn't even care about the giant row they had had the night before she had been shot. Alex knew that they would have worked it out eventually. They would have moved on.

The only thing that spurred her determination now was Gene. She imagined him telling her to do things, and though she'd put up a fight in her mind, she'd end up doing it. Just because Gene's voice told her to. Only a few months earlier, he had told her to find him, the 2008 him. She had resisted, saying that it would be too odd, but eventually, as always, she gave in. Alex spent the better part of a fortnight finding everything she could about Gene Hunt and finding where he lived.

She had not been able to talk to him though. Alex had found him, she had pretty much stalked him for a week, but she couldn't say hello. What would he say if he saw her? She had not changed in thirty years, but he, he had aged. His golden mane was now a bright silver, and the worry of the years was now evident. The glint in his silver blue eyes was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sadness. Alex had wanted to cry when she saw his eyes.

Then finally, one day, he had run into her. Alex tried to look away quickly, to not meet his eyes, but his arm grabbed hers and he stared at her.

"Bolly?" he had breathed, almost too quietly to be heard.

Alex had stared back, unsure of what to say, knowing that he would not believe her if she told him the truth. She had already tried that once, and he had suspended her. Tears had formed in her eyes, and she had pulled away from him, but he caught her once more.

"Alex," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand." He had walked off then, leaving Alex staring behind him in disbelief. He had come to terms with what she had told him? It was only thirty years too late, it seemed. She wanted to rush up behind him, and yell, and scream like she used to, but Alex knew there was no point in making a scene. The world would really believe she had gone mad.

So instead of following Gene Hunt now, she stayed inside, doing nothing, not even watching the telly. If she did do anything, it was usually with eighties music blaring. She had grown to love that kind of music, and disliked anything modern. As far as she was concerned, the music was rubbish nowadays.

Molly had taken this in stride, attributing it to the personality changes the doctors said her mother would probably had. She encouraged Alex in her love of eighties music, taking everything after the year 1990 off her IPod, and replacing it with Adam and the Ants, Duran Duran, and Squeeze.

Alex knew that Molly also noted how much she drank now. Before the shooting she had a glass of wine once a week at the most. Now, she was drinking two or three with a meal, and topping that off occasionally with scotch. Molly again, attributed to the personality changes. Alex knew the real reason. She had become an alcoholic in the eighties, indulging with the team to drown her troubles away in the haze of scotch and wine. Luigi had chastised her, but she was a police officer, that was what they did.

Alex missed Chris and Ray, and Shaz. She missed the antics around the office, the constant state of an emotion between amusement and frustration she had always seemed to find herself in. Whenever she had come into work in a bad mood, something Chris said would cheer her up, as she could laugh at the way he didn't think things through later that night. Ray had seemed like such a typical male at first, only interested in tits, but Alex had realised that there was a softer side to him.

She had seen the way he treated the prostitute, when they were working on the rape case. He had been extremely nice, and he was the one who had gotten her to talk. When they had to work on the case with Gaynor Mason, he had treated her respectfully until he had found out she was a he. And towards the end, he had started to learn psychology, asking questions, and applying it to what he knew.

Alex didn't notice as Molly walked back into the room.

"Mum? Is there something wrong?" This time, Molly had gotten her Mum's attention immediately.

"I can't feel, Molly," Alex replied miserably.

"We went through this Mum. It's just a side effect."

"But how am I supposed to feel alive?! When I was...younger, I was told that if you are alive, you could feel. _How do I know if I can't feel?"_

Molly smiled sadly at her mother. "Look at you, Mum. Can you feel the air coming in and out of your lungs?" Molly took Alex's hand and placed it on her mother's chest. "Can you feel the heartbeat? When you get scared, can't you feel your pulse race?" Molly stared at her mother, who nodded.

"You _can _feel, Mum, see? You _are _alive." Alex nodded and Molly left the room.

"I could feel his heartbeat too," Alex murmured. "He _was _alive. He _was _real. And I'm just an illusion of life." She closed her eyes, picturing the man she had thought about every single day since she woke up from her coma.

His bright silver blue eyes stared at her, haunting her. She remembered her last few moments in 1982. His quiet voice, saying her nickname in absolute shock. His bright eyes, glinting in concern as his gun went slack. Him standing over her, unable to move, as his companions looked at him, blaming him.

Alex knew he didn't mean to, and forgave him for everything as her eyes closed, convinced that she'd never wake up. Then she had, and after the relief of seeing her daughter had faded, she had started to miss him. It was then that she had started drifting. Alex had never fit into the world again. She had not even attempted to fit in. Once her relief had disappeared, she knew that her heart belonged in 1982. She only stayed because of Molly, but Molly had grown so independent that Alex knew she wouldn't miss her.

Alex was careful to keep her thoughts quiet. She was considered to be 'clinically depressed.' Alex had weekly appointments with a psychologist, something that she found amusing. Even though they talked for the hour, in reality, Alex told the psychologist nothing. She knew that if she said anything, she'd be sectioned. And that would ruin everything. She had planned to carefully, too perfectly to let that happen.

She realised that Sam had given her the answer five years previously. It was only a matter of choosing the building. Alex had thought for a long time, and decided on her psychologist's office. It was tall, and the perfect irony. She had searched for that irony, the amusement that had evaded her ever since she left the eighties.

Alex was quiet as she drove to the office, not even listening to music. She hated driving. She longed for Gene's high risk driving style, for his constant swearing and handbrake turns.

Alex climbed the stairs, past the fifth floor, where her psychologist's office was. She continued to climb up, up until she finally reached the roof. It was windy, and the door slammed behind her. Alex stared across the buildings of London, wondering if this was how Sam felt before he died. She stood in the centre of the roof, debating about if she wanted to do a running leap or to fall gracefully. As the rain fell around her, Alex knew the answer. She had already waited over three years, why wait any longer? She started running towards the edge of the roof. She jumped over the rail, and soared through the air, thinking of nothing but Gene. The ground rushed up to meet her, but she could not feel it. She had only been an illusion of life, and she had jumped, jumped to truly live.

~(*)~

As Molly cleaned the last of her Mum's things out of the bedroom, she found a piece of paper face down on the carpet. She picked it up and saw her name written on the back. Molly stuffed it into her pocket before she left the house and climbed into Evan's car.

"It'll be okay, Scrap," Evan said.

Molly turned to the window, not allowing him to see the tears that burned in her eyes. Remembering the scrap of paper, she pulled it out, and tears began to run down her face in earnest as she read her mother's final words to her.

_Molly,_

_I'm breathing,_

_My hearts beating,_

_But I'm just an illusion of life._

_I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I'll always love you._

_Mum X _


End file.
